


shy

by Areiton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Collars, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, M/M, Spanking, Submissive Peter Parker, boys wearing panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 23:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: “You look very pretty, baby,” Tony murmurs, lips brushing against his silk clad skin. “Do you want something tonight?”Peter squirms and Tony leans back to watch a beautiful flush crawl up his cheeks.





	shy

Peter fidgets, anxious and restless. Tony is used to his young lover's energy, and he knows _this_ is different. This is a nervous kind if waiting, like there is something on the tip of his tongue waiting to be said or asked and yet, not spilling out.

Tony gives him space--sometimes Peter needs that to work through whatever is going on in that brilliant mind of his before he is willing to talk to Tony about it. It bothered him, when they first got together, but Peter always comes to him eventually and he focuses on that and not the time it takes him to do so.

So he gives Peter time, leaves him to his corner of the lab and later, when they cook together, he's careful to give the boy space.

Peter kisses him after and slips away to take a bath, and Tony feels that familiar flutter of apprehension. He ignores it and goes to bug FRIDAY.

It's been almost an hour and Tony is sprawled on the couch, glaring at schematics on his tablet that Peter comes to him. He glances up at the sound of light, hesitant footsteps, and his breath catches.

Peter is wear sheer red silk, a robe that hides nothing over lace panties and thigh high fishnets held in place by a delicate garter belt. His lips are scarlet, dark eyeliner and mascara making his big doe eyes stand out more.

He's gorgeous. But what makes Tony's hands shake is the thin black collar.

It's new, the collar.

Sometimes--not always, not even _often_ but _sometimes,_ Peter gets too twisted up in his head, needs Tony to control where they go, to take care of him without question, to accept his requests without judgement.

The collar.

It grounds and frees him, binds him to Tony in a way that Tony isn't sure he'll ever get used to.

Tony sits up, draws Peter down until he's perched on his lap and stokes a hand down his side, petting softly until Peter's tension eases.

“You look very pretty, baby,” Tony murmurs, lips brushing against his silk clad skin. “Do you want something tonight?”

Peter squirms and Tony leans back to watch a beautiful flush crawl up his cheeks.

A request then. Tony waits, patient and Peter mumbles, “Will--I--will you spank me?”

The question comes out in a hot whispered rush, so fast it almost doesn't register. And then it does.

Tony knows his boy isn't as innocent as he looks. That even before Peter fell into Tony's bed, he'd explored enough to know what he likes, what he wants. They'd wait long enough that Tony would he worried if he didn't. But even _knowing_ that, the delicate flush and shy request combine to make his head spin and mouth dry.

His hands shake and Peter is watching him, beautiful and shy and wearing _Tony's_ collar.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers and Peter smiles at him, bright and beautiful.

~*~

He's crying. It's messy and beautiful, running mascara and tear tracks through makeup, lipstick smudged across his teeth and the wrist he bit after the sixth blow, to silence his scream.

Tony doesn't talk, just spanks him, hard and relentless, and every blow drives Peter against him, his cock rubbing maddeningly against Tony's thick thigh.

Peter whines when Tony hits him again, fighting just a little against the arm across his back, holding him in place. His ass burns and his cock _aches_ and he wants, god, he _wants._

Tony’s fingers hook in his collar, pulling just enough that the pressure chokes Peter for a moment, and he goes limp, melting across Tony’s lap as he spanks him again. His ass burns and he feels velvety and floaty, almost like he’s drifting above the sensation.

Tony starts talking when he rubs a calloused hand over Peter’s ass, his voice washing over the boy like a soothing balm, hushed praise as he carefully fingers Peter open. Peter sobs at the touch, the delicate press of a thick finger in, the rub of his hand over the sore skin, the sting soothed by a _so good, baby, god, you’re doing so good._  

He presses back, pushing into Tony’s touch, wordlessly begging for more as he floats in hazy other.

Tony’s fingers wrap around his collar again, and Peter cries out, jolting against him as Tony preps him gently. It feels like a lifetime before Tony pushes into him, and it stings, the rough scratch of denim and rasp of Tony’s zipper against his tender flesh, but it’s a good kind of hurt, and Tony’s thick cock is hot and heavy inside him, the hands on his hips grounding and possessive, and Peter slumps into him, into his chest, so Tony’s whispering in his ear as he rolls his hips and fucks his boy, and Peter can’t decide which is better--the maddeningly perfect way Tony fucks him or the reverent praise he spills out, that Peter is _his_ , that he is _good,_ that he’s _precious and perfect and, god Peter, love you, love you, love you._

When he comes, it’s like a slow cresting wave, washing over him so slow and gradual Peter almost doesn’t realize it, shuddering and pliant as he spills between them. It’s only the searing heat and the groan from Tony that penetrates the haze enough for him to realize he came at all.

~*~

After.

After, Tony cleans him up, the washcloth warm and soft on his sensitive skin, a low hum in his throat as Peter lets himself be manipulated and cared for. He strips off the silk robe and the torn thigh highs, and the ruined panties, and slides a pair of soft boxers up Peter’s long legs, pressing kisses, soft and adoring, along his thigh as he goes.

He reaches for the collar last, and Peter makes a dissatisfied whine, pulling back just a little with a sleepy, “Want it.”

Tony nods, “Ok, baby.”

He crawls into bed and Peter clings to him, sleepy and soft and trusting, and Tony lets out a shuddering breath. “Was that what you wanted, baby?” he asks, hesitant and hating himself for how unsure he sounds.

Peter presses a kiss to his clavicle and says, “You were perfect, daddy.”

Tony hides his smile in the dark and his boy’s hair, and follows him into sleep.

 


End file.
